


You're Young and You're Dumb

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Creampie, Dom/sub, M/M, Overstimulation, Rimming, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8861200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Niall spends all day and the next morning in bed with Harry.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I think it was a little over a year ago that I deleted this from the internet. I have now given it some very minor revisions, and thought I might as well re-post it. Hopefully it stands the test of time ... I hope that anyone who had read it before, enjoys it again; and anyone new to it, enjoys it for the first time. If you think I need to add any tags, please let me know. This was, and remains, 10.5k of porn.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @[extravirgo](http://extravirgo.tumblr.com).

It’s early morning, but Harry’s already lounging outside Newton Halls, having jogged over from the other side of the campus to catch his almost-sort-of-basically-but-not-quite boyfriend getting in from his regular Saturday morning football practise. The air is chilly with the oncoming winter this October and Halloween is fast approaching. Harry’s already planning his fancy dress for the party Ed’ll be hosting back over at Harry’s own halls, across campus; he’s hoping he can convince Niall to go as an old spinster, to compliment his soft black kitten number.

 

Harry snuffles in the sharp air and buries his nose into the chunky knit snood around his neck, digging his hands deep into the pockets of his black peacoat. He can already hear the chatter of Zayn and Louis and a second later Niall’s boisterous tone thunders in, laughing loudly. Harry smiles a little and stands straighter, legs pressed together as though he wants to look smart.

 

They round the corner and Harry’s heart flips a bit, because Niall’s sweating like a racehorse; strands of bleached blond hair plastered across his forehead and shiny nylon jersey clinging wetly to his torso, showing off his narrow waist and flat stomach. His legs look long and damp, kitted out in white football socks and shorts the same material as his jersey, flapping about his thighs and clinging to the muscle so that Harry can see it tense and bulge as he walks.

 

Louis says something, slapping Niall on the back as he does and Harry watches moisture spray into the air, only visible because of the late rising sun hitting their bodies over the lip of the building behind them. Niall bursts into laughter, clapping his hands together and swivelling his hips towards Louis as he shakes his head in disbelief, before turning back and catching sight of Harry.

 

One mitten-covered hand slips out of Harry’s coat pocket and moves to smooth his hair to the side, cheeks warm and pink at the way Niall’s smile softens and his eyes squint slightly as he gets closer.

 

‘Harold,’ cheers Zayn, grinning from ear to ear and coming to a stop to his side. Louis stops on the other side of him and both have shit-eating grins on their faces, dripping with perspiration and letting off that strange, chlorinated smell of fresh sweat. Harry greets them both a little warily; they always connive to prank him at these sorts of times.

 

‘Leave him alone,’ laughs Niall and Harry frowns for a second, before something spatters onto his face and he yelps, jumping back and falling over his own big feet as Louis starts to shake himself all over like a dog that’s just been in a pond. Niall’s trying not to laugh too much, as Louis stops and Zayn starts up, causing Harry to leap away to the side again, ungainly. ‘Stop!’ laughs Niall now, shoving Zayn hard and reaching forward to grab Harry’s arm, pulling him forward so that they’re shoulder to shoulder.

 

‘He just looks so clean and pretty,’ coos Zayn, batting his eyelashes at Harry, who huffs and snuffles his nose back down into his grey marl snood, eyebrows knitted together. From the corner of his eye, he can see Niall’s fond look, the slight quirk at the corner of his broad smile that’s just for Harry.

 

‘I’d like to stay that way,’ Harry gruffs out from amongst his layers and Louis rolls his eyes, dragging out a long proclamation of, ‘Boring’.

 

‘What’re you doing here, anyway? Do we have plans?’ asks Niall finally, digging around in the side pocket of his sports bag at his feet, trying to get his pass to enter the building. Louis and Zayn clearly haven’t brought theirs today.

 

‘No,’ says Harry, shrugging and forcing his cheeks to stay neutral. Niall has a way of asking questions that Harry would usually find embarrassing or shaming, and making them sound like he’s incredibly pleased Harry’s done something he had no idea about. When they were first friends (before the fucking and the kissing and lately the more complicated feelings), Harry was shy about turning up unannounced, or even announced, but Niall made it perfectly clear that being in Harry’s company was something he liked, enjoyed even. Harry turns up without calling ahead, a lot, these days.

 

‘Cool. Wanna watch a film then?’ asks Niall distractedly, as he stands up and waves his pass around triumphantly. Zayn mimes cheering, waving his hands about in the air in a rather lacklustre fashion, while Louis makes a face that seems to say, finally, though he barely looks up from where he’s tapping at his phone.

 

‘Yeah,’ Harry murmurs, crowding up close behind Niall as they pile into the foyer and fighting the urge to bury his nose into the dark, damp scruffs of hair at the base of Niall’s neck. In the crush, though, Niall reaches over and squeezes his hand, shows that he heard Harry and that he’s glad he’s there. Harry hides his beaming smile in his scarf and blinks rapidly against the way his heart beats double-time when Niall touches him, seemingly for no reason other than that he wants to.

 

They pile into the lift and Zayn gets out on the first floor; Louis on the second; and then it’s just Harry, Niall and Niall’s sports bag the rest of the way up to the sixth. No one gets in along the way, but they don’t talk or touch anyway. It’s not awkward, just easy, because Harry doesn’t like to force conversation – finds it hard to join in with one already going, to be honest, with how meandering his speech can be – and Niall looks tired and sweaty, probably going over his game in his head. This is how most Saturday mornings go, for them.

 

Walking into the flat, Niall sticks his head through into the kitchen-cum-living area to shout hello to Liam, while Harry goes ahead and slips into Niall’s room. It’s not very big, though it’s bigger than Harry’s, who applied for halls so late he ended up on the arse-end of campus with a poky little cupboard to himself and a shared bathroom. Niall has his own, shower-sized wet-room, a bed slightly bigger than a single and a brand spanking new desk, which is mostly covered in unread books and dirty mugs.

 

‘Left my phone,’ mutters Niall, as he enters behind Harry and dodges around him to get to the desk, picking up his neglected phone. The screen lights up to show a slew of messages; FaceBook, Twitter, texts and emails. When Harry leaves his phone at home and checks it hours later, he’s always disappointed to find nothing; although sometimes there’ll be a Niall, lounging on his bed.

 

He unwraps himself from his coat, mittens, snood and cardigan, because Niall’s room is always roasting hot; and toes off his shoes, leaving him in his chunky maroon socks, black skinny jeans and vintage-look Queen shirt. Niall glances over from where he’s reading something on his phone and smiles slightly, scratching at his hip and letting his eyes drift down Harry’s legs appreciatively. ‘Look good,’ he mutters, eyes flicking back to the screen, but Harry beams at him anyway, fluffing his hair with his hands like a preening cat.

 

‘Thanks. Wanna blow you,’ he adds thoughtfully, stumbling forward and dropping to his knees in front of Niall, hands coming up to tug at the elasticated band of his shorts, getting a glimpse of the green and white boxers beneath.

 

Laughing, Niall tosses his phone and lets it bounce on the duvet, before one hand comes to grab at Harry’s hair, pushing him back. ‘Let me have a shower first, Haz, I’m gross,’ he protests and Harry scowls at his hipbone, pushing against the hand in his hair to try and bite at it.

 

‘Don’t care, wanna do it now,’ he whines, managing to get close enough to lick at the skin. It’s damp and salty with sweat, that strange scent of chlorine melting into stale boy and heat from the thick air in the room. Niall sighs, his grip loosening, because he likes Harry’s mouth on him, anywhere. He finds it hard to protest when Harry’s so desperate. ‘Want you all sweaty,’ Harry continues in a mumble and Niall would think he was making fun, joking, but he sounds concentrated and serious.

 

Niall’s not really kinky, as a rule. Not that Harry’s asked him to like … piss on him, or anything weird like that, because Niall would definitely freak out then. He’s been with blokes before, too, been fucked by them and fucked them. This isn’t new. But Harry’s a little different; it’s not that he’s not into fucking Niall, although they do that less, but he prefers for Niall to really take charge, so to speak. Generally, he won’t make decisions himself or go for it and he’s been very clear that he wants to do what Niall wants to do. That gets him off.

 

Which is great, in theory, but in practise it can make it hard to work out what Harry does actually like and what he’s doing just for Niall, even if the doing it for him is enjoyable. It gives Niall a headache.

 

So now, with Harry making it clear that he wants this and why and it being something that Harry will enjoy for himself, Niall’s more than happy to let him go for it. Especially if he gets a blowjob out of it. It’s a win-win.

 

‘Okay, go for it,’ sighs Niall, leaning back against the lip of the desk and spreading his legs slightly. He’s still got his trainers on and his football socks, mud crusting the tops around his knees and grass stains streaked up his pale thighs. Harry’s hands run up the backs of his thighs, fingers coming to grasp at the back of his shorts and pulling them down, as he presses his nose into Niall’s crotch, breathing in the damp smell of his cooling sweat. Dick twitching inside the fabric, Niall puts his hand back in Harry’s hair, using the other to brace himself against the desk, and scratches at his scalp in the way he likes.

 

‘Thank you,’ Harry mutters, barely audible through the fabric against his mouth and Niall’s rapidly swelling cock, but it’s there and it warms Niall’s stomach in a strange way that doesn’t feel like arousal so much as fondness.

 

‘You like the smell of my sweat?’ asks Niall and he tries not to be tentative, because Harry always responds beautifully, but he blossoms at confidence and surety. He must do alright, because Harry nods quickly, mouthing softly at the growing line of Niall in his boxers, eyes fluttered nearly shut. ‘Tell me what you like about it,’ Niall orders, feeling his confidence boost at the sight of Harry’s hand clenched tight into the denim of his thigh and the bulge at his crotch.

 

‘I like,’ Harry starts and then he stops, takes a deep breath and leans back, rubbing his hand across his eyes, before he leans back in, just pressing his face into the crux of the V of Niall’s groin, breathing carefully. Niall doesn’t push him, because that’s not how they do this; he lets Harry take it at his own pace and enjoys the sometimes slow and meandering ride, always pleasurable.

 

He’d asked Harry, once, if he’d prefer it if Niall pushed him further, forced him to say or do things outside of his comfort zone and Harry had frowned, looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t really think that’s what this is about, for me?’ he’d said tentatively, not quite meeting Niall’s eyes, but snuggling up against him under the blanket they were ensconced in. ‘I just … I like pleasing people and doing what they want, but I don’t like feeling embarrassed about it or anything. So I don’t think – I don’t think so. Unless it was something you really wanted,’ he’d added, finally looking up. Niall had been struck, then, by the trust of his big green eyes and the innocence in the open planes of his face.

 

‘I wouldn’t want anything you didn’t, anyway,’ Niall had murmured, before kissing him and they’d made out for most of the night, before falling asleep with their limbs tangled and sweaty in the heat.

 

‘I like,’ Harry starts again, now, ‘how it makes you smell – makes you smell really boyish. And it’s you – it’s you working out and getting fit and – and I like your muscles, in your legs and your arms and your stomach and – and when you get sweaty it makes me think about them and how you get them and – I like that. It’s – really strong.’ The last part is very quiet and sounds embarrassed, so Niall rewards him with a gentle stroke behind his ear and down the back of his neck.

 

‘That’s good,’ mutters Niall, using his other hand to stroke at his dick, nearly fully hard from the heat of Harry’s breath and the way he seems so overwhelmed by this. ‘My little princess likes his big, masculine boyfriend?’ he asks and it’s meant to be a joke, but it comes out sounding kind of douchey, and Harry’s whimpering, teeth coming to pull at the material of Niall’s boxers and nose pressed into the side of his dick.

 

‘Yeah, wanna suck you now,’ he slurs, looking up through his eyelashes, his eyes bright and green and his cheeks flushed a hectic pink. Niall nods and gets his boxers off quickly, chucks them into the corner along with his shorts and his kicked off trainers. He goes to peel off his socks, but Harry slaps his hands away, scowls up at him cheekily and Niall laughs, leaves them on in favour of stripping his shirt off.

 

‘I’m getting on the bed, I’m not putting my back out against the desk,’ he laughs, strolling over and flopping backwards, giving Harry a look as though he’s the strange one for still being dressed, not Niall in his dirty socks and nothing else. ‘Strip off and get up here, then, princess.’

 

Harry blushes and huffs, but gets up on his feet anyway and strips off without a care. He’s shy about a lot of things, but he’s never had a problem with his body; he doesn’t understand, on some level, how to feel ashamed of how he looks or why he should care about his imperfections. It’s not that he loves everything about himself; just that he doesn’t think about the slight hint of love-handles at his hips, or how the tattoos under his arm and over his chest look scrappy and a little dirty. He just is and that’s fine. People react well to his mouth, to his eyes, to his legs; they sometimes don’t like how narrow he is, despite carrying a little extra layer, or how baby-faced he can look. Niall seems to like it all and that’s just fine.

 

‘Bossy,’ he mutters, as though he doesn’t ask for it, as he gets his jeans off of his ankles with a struggle and tumbles onto the bed, clambering up Niall’s legs to his crotch and grinning up at him, all white teeth and big nose.

 

‘Too right, get sucking,’ Niall laughs, pushing playfully at Harry’s head until he’s licking at the base of his cock and … that’s good.

 

The first time they got together, it was a blowjob from Harry and a handjob from Niall, so this part is familiar and easy, like kissing and holding hands in a way.

 

Harry knew Niall through Eleanor, Louis’s girlfriend, who lived in his halls. They didn’t speak much; Harry was a first year and Niall was in second and generally they don’t mix, but they ran into each other enough, when Niall was out with Louis or Harry was out with El. They got on really well and Niall thinks they probably would have become firm friends anyway, but then Harry got blind drunk and up for it and Niall wasn’t really in a sober position to say no, either, so they ended up back at Niall’s room and that was that.

 

They haven’t told anyone, exactly, because … what is there to tell? Oh, by the way, me and Harry are fucking? Because people pretty much know that part, but they think that’s all it is and it has been, so far, but it’s starting to feel like more. More in the way that next week, when Niall’s parents are in London to visit him, Harry’s going to come for dinner with them. More in the way that during reading week next month, Niall’s going up to Cheshire to stay with Harry’s family.

 

They might have to start calling it something at that point, thinks Niall; then he can’t think about parents much more, because Harry’s gone right down on his dick and fuck, they usually work up to this a bit more.

 

‘Jesus,’ he gasps, hands flying down to clench in Harry’s hair, forgetting for a moment and fucking in deep, so that Harry chokes and clutches sharply at his straining thighs. ‘Shit,’ he gasps again, yanking Harry off just as quick and staring down at his mouth, wet with saliva and bright, cherry red.

 

‘You weren’t thinking about me,’ Harry accuses, voice rough, and Niall laughs weakly, before nodding and pulling him back down to his dick.

 

‘Yeah, okay princess, I’ll pay attention this time,’ he says breathlessly.

 

‘You can do that again, though, I like that,’ Harry says calmly, as he settles himself back down over Niall’s dick, wiggling about until he’s comfortable between his legs.

 

Christ, thinks Niall, because fuck if anyone’s ever been so eager to please _him_.

 

Harry’s always liked blowjobs, is the thing; there’s something about having his mouth filled up like this, which he really likes. Like, he can’t talk or lose focus, he just has to make this good and serve a purpose. He likes the weight of it on his tongue and the alien sense of something you’re not going to eat, just sitting there, filling him up and grounding him. It’s not a sensation he can explain; and Niall doesn’t get it, because he’ll suck cock, yeah, but it’s not something he loves.

 

Niall gets in deep, then, fucks his hips up gently and holds Harry’s head, so that he can bob a little and move, but Niall’s running the show. He moans a little around it and goes lax, lets Niall use him and spaces out slightly, keeping his throat loose and his hands resting softly at Niall’s hips, pressing every so often to show he’s with it.

 

‘Fuck, Harry, wanna fuck you,’ breaks through Harry’s soft daydream of white and pleasure and calm and he blinks, looks up at Niall sleepily. Niall’s breathing heavily, chest sheened with sweat and hands gripping tightly to the duvet either side of him.

 

In the midday sunlight streaming through the window, he’s all white gold; ridged with tendons and muscle and Harry moans around his cock, ducking down to suck tightly on it and rutting his own hips against the bedding. ‘Shit, shit, no, stop,’ groans Niall, thrusting his hips up as though it might knock Harry off, but it just makes him slide up and lick at the head, lips messy and wet and eyes blurry when he meets Niall’s gaze.

 

He does this, sometimes, drifts off when he’s with Niall. He doesn’t know why, but it feels good, feels soft and safe and easy to just do what Niall wants, so he pulls off and sits back on his calves, places his hands on his thighs and waits patiently for Niall to tell him what to do.

 

Pulling himself up against the pillows, half-lying and half-sitting, Niall regards Harry with a little awe; the sun streaks his hair golden blond in places, nearly brushing his shoulders with how much it’s grown over the past year, and lights his tanned skin to show the small goosebumps and lines of barely-formed muscle around his biceps and pecs. He still looks soft, like he’s clinging onto the baby-fat of his childhood, blurred around the edges; but sharp in places as though he’s merging with what he’ll become. His legs, bent underneath himself at the knee, look smooth and supple; but the bone of his hip protrudes dangerously just above the dark crease of his thigh.

 

‘You look lovely,’ Niall says, smiling and beckoning Harry up towards him. Beaming, Harry tips forward and scrambles up to Niall, settling in-between his bent legs and snuffling against his neck. Immediately settling his hands at Harry’s hips, before sliding down to rest on his arse, Niall giggles at the soft bites and kisses Harry lays across his neck, tugging at the skin and growling like a playful kitten when Niall doesn’t push him around. ‘Yeah, I get it,’ Niall laughs, finally tugging at his hair and pulling him back, landing a firm kiss on his lips and slapping his bum a bit harder than necessary.

 

‘Do you want to - ?’ Harry starts, but Niall speaks over him, saying, ‘I want to watch you open yourself up, for me.’

 

Harry blinks up at him from where he’s rested against his collarbone, then nods quickly and rolls over Niall’s limbs to sprawl back against the pillows, making grabby hands for the lube. ‘I can do that,’ he agrees, reaching down to squeeze his cock, pressing it against the swell of his stomach; his eyes snap shut and he twists his mouth a little and Niall laughs, slapping his hand away and pressing the small bottle of lube from the bedside table into his hand.

 

‘No hands on yourself, either. You’ll come, I know what you’re like,’ he reprimands and Harry blushes sheepishly, even as he gets his fingers wet with lube.

 

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles and spreads his legs out, crooked at the knee and long, feet at the end turned inwards a little with the toes curled. Niall smiles fondly and grabs a spare cushion from the bottom of the bed, propping it against the wall to their left so that he can sit back and watch. ‘Would you,’ Harry starts, his fingers prodding at his hole distractedly, eyes glazed. He stops.

 

‘Yeah?’ asks Niall, tearing his eyes away to look up, smiling encouragingly. ‘Go on, ask,’ he adds, hoping the order might help some.

 

‘Would you tell me – tell me how you want me to do it, I can’t –‘ and Harry doesn’t seem to know what he means any further than this, because his eyebrows furrow and he tips his head back, growling in the back of his throat.

 

Niall reaches out and circles his hand around his ankle, rubbing comfortingly. ‘Sure, I can do that,’ he says easily and Harry’s brow unknots, a shuddery sigh of relief leaving him. ‘Start on the first, then, just ease it in,’ says Niall quietly, shuffling up the wall so that he’s closer, just below Harry’s feet. He doesn’t move his hand.

 

Harry nods once and starts to press against his rim, eyes fixed on the ceiling; Niall can see him clenching, can feel the tension rolling off of his body at being on display so intimately, in a way he’s not yet used to. ‘Relax for me,’ he murmurs, his thumb pressing into the thin skin around Harry’s prominent ankle. ‘It’s just you and me, I want to see this.’

 

Harry exhales shakily and a shudder rolls through him as he loosens up, his index pressing again and slipping through the muscle. His breath hitches as he slides it further in and then pulls back to the tip, chest heaving as though he’s taking three and going fast.

 

‘So good,’ whispers Niall, not letting up with the comforting rub of his thumb. ‘Two when you feel comfortable, yeah?’

 

Harry nods, his head dropping down and chin resting against his chest as he starts to press another finger in against the first, stretching his muscle to accommodate and breathing as evenly as he can manage. It edges in; sinks deep quickly because Harry presses past any discomfort; and Niall listens to him whine against the feeling, drags his hand up from his ankle to knead at the muscle in the back of his calve.

 

‘That’s perfect,’ he says quietly and Harry whines again, shoves his hips down the bed a little and onto his fingers, pressing them deeper and harder. ‘You’re too dry,’ Niall mutters and he reaches over for the lube, uncapping it sharply and drizzling it over Harry’s fingers and hole. He drops the bottle and uses his own fingers to massage the liquid into the blushing flesh of Harry’s arse, while Harry gasps and moans loudly, pushes into the feel of Niall’s touch where it feels good.

 

‘Right, come on, start stretching it out, scissor your fingers,’ Niall encourages, removing his hand and giving Harry a quick tap on the bum before he leans back against the wall, eyes returning to watch Harry’s face. His cheeks are bright red across the bone and he looks like he’s overheated; eyes glassy and bright as they fix on Niall. His hair’s gone floppy, rather than bouncy, dropped curls falling into his face and catching at his eyelashes. ‘Harry,’ snaps Niall, when Harry’s still staring at him, unfocused, rather than following the instructions.

 

‘Mmm, sorry,’ Harry slurs, blinking and looking down his body, as though he’d forgotten he was attached to the rest. His fingers start to spread into a V and Niall watches the muscle give around his long fingers, the dark space between and the bright glare of the wet lube in the sunlight from the window. He presses them in further, keeps spreading his fingers, and makes a choked sound in the back of his throat, eyes flashing to Niall’s and pleading for more instruction.

 

Rather than that, Niall twists and leans down, presses Harry’s palm against the skin of his perineum and licks up between the V of his fingers, tongue flat and wet and rough.

 

‘Shit,’ says Harry loudly and his voice is high, surprised and strained. In the year they’ve been hooking up, this isn’t something Niall’s done very often; he likes doing it, likes muttering to Harry that he’s going to eat him out and make him come on his tongue, but it’s one of those strange, intimate things that you don’t do as much when you’re first sleeping with someone. He feels more comfortable doing it now, but Harry’s obviously still surprised by it, even if he loves it, and it makes Niall smile against the hot skin of his thigh.

 

Using his hand to press Harry’s back against himself, he gets more into it; points his tongue and presses in-between his fingers to wet Harry’s rim and get his tongue in deeper. There’s spit sliding down the crack of Harry’s arse down onto the duvet and Niall feels it smear on his chin, his nose getting damp from the hot air he’s breathing and the lube on Harry’s fingers.

 

‘Niall,’ Harry gasps and his hips twitch, riding down onto Niall’s face, before he seizes back up and makes a sobbing sound in the back of his throat.

 

‘Go on,’ mutters Niall, leaning back to breathe hot on Harry’s rim. ‘You can ride my face, I want you to do that.’

 

Harry stutters and hesitates, so Niall nips at the swollen ring of muscle in front of his mouth, before shoving Harry’s hand out of his arse and up into Niall’s hair instead. He doesn’t ask again, because he shouldn’t have to, so he thrusts his face between Harry’s cheeks and buries his tongue inside him, mouthing around his hole in a sloppy kiss.

 

‘Fuck,’ shouts Harry and Niall hears one of his hands slam against the wall as the other clenches in Niall’s hair and presses him deeper. Keening, Harry braces his feet against the mattress and starts to ride back against his mouth. His long fingers press bluntly into the base of Niall’s skull and the slick skin of his exposed crack makes a crude noise against Niall’s mouth and face. ‘Feels so good,’ he hisses and Niall decides to make it better, by reaching one of his hands up to fist roughly around the thick shape of his cock, blindly feeling until he has a tight grip and can wank his fist up and down mercilessly.

 

Hips jerking, Harry alternates frantically between fucking up into Niall’s fist and down onto his tongue, breaths gasping and heaving up above, while Niall makes out with his arse, so loud it’s obscene. The wet slap of skin and tongue and pre-come on Harry’s cock is stark in the silence of the room and probably even audible to the next; but it’s fine, thinks Niall, that people can hear how well Harry gets satisfied by him, at all times of day.

 

‘’M gonna come,’ slurs Harry and his legs slip on the sweaty sheets, splaying out wide and loose as his hips start to judder roughly between the two stimulations. Thinking there’s no point making him hold out; Niall uses his free hand to thrust three fingers inside Harry, teeth coming to nip sharply at his rim and his hand sliding up the long length of Harry’s heated cock easily, quick with pre-come. ‘Oh God,’ wails Harry and his hips stutter, fingers clenching reflexively into Niall’s hair to the point of pain.

 

Niall feels Harry’s cock pulse and his own, ignored beneath him, throbs in sympathy as Harry’s release spatters over his stomach, over his ridiculous butterfly tattoo, before dribbling down over Niall’s steadily pumping hand. Gently, he removes his fingers, eliciting a hurt mewl from Harry, before he slides up the bed to lie down beside him.

 

‘Alright?’ he asks quietly, drawing his hand back and leaving Harry to soften against his hip. His cock looks red and abused, streaked wet with white and twitching with oversensitivity. The butterfly looks defiled, smeared with spunk. Niall shivers and uses the back of his arm to wipe at his face, getting most of the sweat and damp from his skin, though he’s sure he smells like sex.

 

‘Mmm,’ hums Harry, burrowing his hot face into Niall’s neck. His chest is flushed deep red, so Niall rubs soothingly at his pecs, prompting a shudder as his caluses run over Harry’s nipples, other arm wrapped around his back. ‘Can fuck me now,’ Harry adds suddenly and one slender, trembling leg comes up to wrap around Niall’s body, Harry’s heel pressing into his arse to get him to come forward.

 

‘What? No, don’t be ridiculous, I’ll just go wank,’ he snaps gruffly and Harry pulls back from his neck, looks up at him with an unsure expression. He looks unbearably young, with his rose pink cheeks and big glassy eyes, lips bitten cherry red and turned down in a small frown. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ groans Niall relaxing back against the pillows and letting Harry flop onto his chest. Unfortunately, it causes Niall’s dick to get trapped between them and with a small huff of a moan, he thrusts up, wondering if he could get off on the friction of Harry’s belly, eased by the smear of his come.

 

‘No, I want you to fuck me,’ Harry slurs and his hips shift as he clambers to sit on top, his still-wet arse pressed over the line of his cock. ‘Please?’ he adds and Niall’s head falls back against the pillow, eyes squeezing tight shut.

 

‘Fine, okay, but you’re riding me if you want it that badly,’ he says snappishly, even though he wants to fuck Harry probably more than Harry wants to be fucked.

 

Harry hums in a satisfied way and kneels slightly, hand reaching back around himself to get a grip on Niall’s cock. His hand is large and a little sweaty, thumb moving instinctively to smooth along the crown as he draws it up towards himself. ‘Hard and fast or slow?’ he asks distractedly and Niall can’t really answer right off the bat, because Harry’s fitting the head of his dick into the soft, stretched entrance of his arse, hips shifting and lowering himself down onto it. He sighs and readjusts to place both hands on Niall’s chest, body relaxing and shivering at the sensation of being filled up. Niall watches his eyes close, eyelashes fluttering down to brush over the flushed skin beneath his eyes and teeth catching his swollen bottom lip as he endures the sensitivity against his frayed nerves.

 

‘Take it slow, it’s fine, you can – you can speed up when you want,’ mutters Niall, one hand coming down to wrap around Harry’s hip, fingers soothing. ‘How’s it feel?’ he asks, wanting to hear Harry talk.

 

Harry’s nose scrunches like a kitten splashed with water and he rises up and then down again, hips slow like thick honey. The tops of his thighs are blushed red and his cock’s still mostly soft, but pink like it can’t quite go down. ‘A lot,’ rasps Harry, rocking himself gently in a steady rhythm. He’s tight inside, hot around Niall’s dick, and it’s hard for Niall not to just grip Harry’s hips and slam up into him repeatedly until he comes. ‘Like having you inside me, though, feels good.’

 

‘Are you gonna come again?’ asks Niall, as his hand slides around to slip his fingers into Harry’s crack, stroking gently at where they meet. Harry’s face scrunches again and his eyebrows draw inwards; he circles his hips and bows forwards, before gasping and moaning loudly, pornographic, into the still air of the room.

 

‘Yeah,’ he moans shakily and Niall can feel the bump of his prostate against the head of his cock, so he pins Harry still with both his hands and starts to make short, sharp thrusts up into him, making sure he rubs torturously against it. ‘Fuck, fuck,’ hisses Harry and his head thrashes, long curls, damp and frizzy with sweat, flying across his face and his fingers clench and dig into Niall’s chest sharply.

 

‘Want you hard,’ says Niall as calmly as he can, when Harry’s spasming around him.

 

‘Okay,’ gasps Harry, but he doesn’t make the mistake of touching himself. He rocks his hips a little quicker and lets Niall make aborted thrusts upwards, small mewls and whimpers escaping his mouth as his cock fills and rises up towards his stomach.

 

‘Lovely,’ says Niall on an intake of breath and as a reward, he slips his hand into Harry’s hair, fingers rubbing at his scalp, and draws him down for a kiss. It’s breathless, more hot puffs of air and slickly skimming lips than anything else, but Niall groans loudly anyway, hips galvanising upwards with a sudden desire. ‘Want to fill you up,’ he breathes into Harry’s mouth, hand tightening in his hair. ‘Want you dripping full of me.’

 

‘Yes,’ hisses Harry, hips starting to slam up and down in counterpoint with Niall’s, panting breaths hitting his face. ‘’M yours,’ he adds, as though he wants this to be a marker of the fact. Niall moans and throws his head back, growls when Harry nips at his Adam’s apple.

 

‘Need you to come first, touch yourself,’ Niall demands, head snapping back up to watch as Harry retreats, hips starting to bounce heavily as he gets a grip around himself and starts to fuck into his fist, chest heaving and shimmering with sweat. The set of his arm is like concrete, bicep bulging, so that his heart tattoo looks as though it’s beating. Niall’s hands tangle into the sheets at his sides, even though he wants to get his hands all over Harry, pinching and rubbing. That’s not the point, though.

 

Harry’s breaths start to hiccough and his whole torso seems red, pulsing with blood and desire. ‘I want to come for you,’ he gasps, sounding frustrated even as he starts to squeeze his cock roughly as it slips through his fist. His other hand slips down to cup his balls and Niall can see him massaging them, even though it throws his balance.

 

‘It’s okay, just – just focus, you’re close, I know you are,’ Niall grits out and it’s true, he can feel Harry clenching around him and can see the heat flushing his face a deep, pinked red. ‘Come on, get yourself off for me, you look so pretty when you come and I want to see that when I’m filling you up.’

 

Harry chokes and his fist tightens, as his other hand flies from between his legs to brace against Niall’s stomach. His cock pulses in his fist and Niall can see it throb, the first shot of come hitting him square in the chest, before Harry’s hand slips up to catch the rest. His moans are always loud and he’s no different now, letting out obscene gasps and groans as he wrings his cock and gets come all down it and over his hand. ‘Come inside me. Please, do it now,’ he pants, eyes opening and gazing straight into Niall’s, pale grey-green and glazed with tears.

 

Niall growls and pulls Harry down to his chest, bringing his feet up to brace on the bed. He thrusts hard and sloppy, no real rhythm except that of needing to come and soon. The filthy, wet slap of his pelvis hitting Harry’s arse is sharp and visceral and Niall’s going to come, he knows it, the heat coiling low in his belly and threatening to snap.

 

‘Fuck, yes, gonna come, Harry, fill you right up,’ he groans into Harry’s ear, one hand gripping tight into Harry’s hair and the other splayed over his arse.

 

Harry moans weakly, but seems too tired to move, so instead he kisses sloppily at Niall’s neck in encouragement. A tight, strained moan gets caught in Niall’s throat and his thrusts stutter as his cock pulses and pumps, coming inside Harry and sliding wetly around him as he fucks into him once, twice and then a third time, finally coming to a stop.

 

Their breathing is heavy and panting around them, suddenly all either of them can hear. Gasping a little, Niall rolls Harry off of him, scritching at him behind the ears as he makes a soft noise of dissatisfaction at the sudden emptiness. Niall can feel his sweat cooling on his skin quickly, as well as Harry’s come and it feels tacky and uncomfortable. Harry, on the other hand, flops onto his stomach and closes his eyes, breaths evening out almost instantly.

 

‘Gonna have a shower babe, you want in?’ asks Niall quietly, but Harry barely grunts a negative as he slips into sleep. It’s fine, Niall thinks, he can change his sheets later after Harry’s had his nap. He’s bound to be exhausted. Giving him one last pet at the base of his neck, Niall throws his soft, cream throw over Harry and stumbles over to the door of his little wet room, closing the door as quietly as he can and switching the shower on as hot as he dares.

 

He realises he’s still got his filthy football socks on and almost laughs, peeling them off of his legs before he steps under the spray, revelling in the sensation of all the dried sweat slowly being sluiced from his body. The body wash he uses is the kind Harry buys, because the one he used to use brought Harry out in a rash and this is Harry’s favourite, because it smells like oranges. He rubs it all over his body and washes it off again; and then scrubs it through his hair and lets the water pound down on his head; until he feels squeaky clean and the room smells to high heaven of a citrus bowl.

 

Drying off back in the room, which is hot and stinks of sex and come and sweat, now mostly from Harry’s slumbering body, Niall feels his stomach growl and decides to get them both some food. Harry’ll be starving when he wakes up and Niall can’t deal with a grumpy, pouting twenty year old when all he’s going to want to do is watch the football and possibly sleep for the next year.

 

‘Haz,’ he murmurs, bending down to Harry’s ear and shivering at the feral scent of him, strong in the curls plastered to his neck. ‘Haz, I’m gonna go get us some food, what do you want?’ he asks softly, pushing Harry’s fringe back from his face. His cheeks are still flushed red and his lips look swollen and plump. Asleep, he looks younger and unaccountably innocent, all things considered. Niall is a bit disconcerted by the feeling that he could go another round quite so quickly.

 

Harry doesn’t answer though, just makes a snuffling noise and curls up under the blanket, burying his nose into the corner and breathing deeply. A tug of affection pulls hard at Niall’s stomach and he sighs, kissing Harry on the eyelid. ‘Be back soon,’ he murmurs, even though he can’t hear him. He leaves a post-it note on the wet room door instead and steps out of the room.

 

Liam’s already left for work, which means it must be past one in the afternoon. Rubbing a hand over his face and thinking it’s insane and a bit stupid that he’s spent the last two or maybe more hours having sex and sex alone, Niall decides he’ll go to the student bar and grab them a couple of burgers and chips, maybe a few bottles of beer as well, to eat back in the room.

 

He jogs across campus, more towards Harry’s territory now, and feels the last of the cobwebs fly away with the crisp October air. The student bar looks busy through the windows and it’s louder and more cramped inside, everyone either pressed against the bar or turned towards the big screen in the corner, where the game’s just about to start. Niall leans against the bar and watches the players jog around the pitch; it’s Man City vs. Man U and you can smell the tension in the air, can see the clear divide through the room.

 

‘Just so you know, I’m not living with you next year,’ comes a shout in Niall’s ear from behind the bar and turning, Niall finds Liam frowning at him, arms crossed over his chest.

 

Pouting, Niall asks, ‘Why?’ as sadly as he can and Liam rolls his eyes.

 

‘Because you and Harry are bloody disgustingly loud and Chloe nearly burnt to death from blushing. We had to leave early just to escape the noise,’ he exclaims exasperatedly and Niall just laughs, unembarrassed.

 

‘I put up with listening to your pathetic grunts, Liam, ‘s not my fault you can’t handle the sound of a man manlier than you having hot, pleasurable sex,’ he says calmly, grinning as Zayn sidles up next to him.

 

Liam doesn’t take the bait. ‘What can I get you then?’ he asks long-sufferingly.

 

‘Two burgers and chips to go … and a couple bottles of Corona.’ Liam writes the order down and throws it behind him into the kitchen, through the pass. He goes to grab the beers, but Niall stops him. ‘Two doughnuts as well, sorry,’ he grins, thinking Harry will never forgive him if he doesn’t return with sugar.

 

‘Get him a pint as well,’ shouts Zayn, slapping down his tenner and nodding his head towards the game, where kick-off is imminent.

 

‘Nah, mate, can’t. Harry’s asleep back at mine,’ Niall laments, watching as Liam starts to pour Zayn’s drink, the condensation sparkling under the lights of the bar.

 

‘If he’s asleep he won’t miss you for a bit, come on,’ wheedles Zayn. ‘Louis and Stan are just down there.’ He points to where there’s a table right in front of the screen; it’s littered with crisps and a pair of dirty old black Converse he recognises as Louis’s.

 

‘Alright, just the one, while I’m waiting for the food,’ mutters Niall, nodding at Liam to add another to the order.

 

An hour and a half later, Niall’s had two pints and his food’s waiting under the heater, having been ready since half time. The game’s finished; Man U won and Louis’s ecstatic, offering to buy shots for everyone, even though it’s only just past three in the afternoon.

 

‘Sambuca,’ he roars, shoving two fingers up at one of the Man City fans grumbling about foul play in the corner to his mates. ‘Come on Nialler, you want Sambuca or Jaeger?’ he shouts, flipping his wallet open and whipping out a twenty.

 

Niall shakes his head, viciously. ‘No, absolutely no chance you head case, I’m getting my food and going back to my room,’ he laughs, slapping Louis on the back anyway and dragging him into a hug.

 

Louis draws back and smirks, eyes slitted. ‘Oh yeah, got someone waiting have you?’ he drawls, fanning his face with the twenty.

 

Niall rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, I have, and they’ve been there over an hour and will murder me if I’m not back soon, so let me go,’ he groans, before waving a short goodbye and hopping over chairs and stools to get back to the bar.

 

Liam shoves his food at him, shaking his head. ‘I’ll pay my tab tomorrow,’ Niall promises, blowing him a kiss.

 

‘Yeah, yeah, just keep it down when Chloe and I get back!’ Liam shouts over the crowd, as Niall hot foots it out the door and into the cold, afternoon air.

 

He shoves the bag of food up his hoodie and wraps his arms around it as he takes a slow jog back over to campus. He’s hoping Harry hasn’t woken up and won’t be giving him a reproachful look when he gets in, but the food should make up for the wait.

 

Despite his hopes, he’s still surprised to find Harry still sleeping soundly when he swings the door open to his room. It’s nearly stifling hot, which isn’t bad for Niall, who’s been out in the cold; but having sat the food down on his desk and come to sit down next to Harry on the bed, Niall finds him flushed red and a little sweaty. His skin looks soft and smooth with sleep and he doesn’t smell like he’s showered since Niall left, which … it’s hot, in a way. Thinking that he’s still got Niall’s come inside him, still tastes him on his lips and has him printed on his skin.

 

‘Hey,’ Niall whispers into his ear, kicking his shoes off and sliding underneath the blanket behind him. He wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and kisses softly at the sensitive skin behind Harry’s ear, earning himself a whispery noise of approval. ‘Wake up, got us some food.’

 

Harry snuffles and cuddles back into Niall’s embrace, his bare bum rubbing against Niall’s crotch. Which, well, Niall never said he was a saint and he’s got two pints in him and the faint smell of stale sex rushing up his nose. He thinks better men than him would have started to get hard from this.

 

He kisses at Harry’s neck again, interspersing it with bites along the line of his back and licking over the faint pink marks that flare up afterwards. He tastes salty and sleepy and warm, like something just baked out of the oven. Niall hums and runs his palms flat down Harry’s abdomen, feeling the muscles twitch into life, before one hand curls gently around his soft cock, massaging it with the rough pads of his fingers and the dry cradle of his palm. His other hand comes to rest on the inner of Harry’s thigh, kneading at the malleable flesh there.

 

‘Wake up,’ Niall murmurs again, now right against Harry’s ear, breath ruffling the dried curls of his hair and tongue following to lick around the shell of his ear. In his palm, Harry’s dick stirs and fattens a little; the soft heavy weight of it shifting along with Harry’s twitching hips.

 

Harry makes a confused noise and Niall hears hip wet his lips, can just see the flutter of his eyelashes over the waves of his curls.

 

‘Ni, what?’ he asks hoarsely, wriggling backwards into his body heat and pressing one hand to Niall’s flank, underneath the blanket.

 

‘Got us some food, love. Thought you’d be hungry,’ Niall mutters, though he doesn’t cease the steady movement of his hand along Harry’s length and doesn’t protect Harry from the nearly hard bulge in his own pants.

 

‘Mmm, yeah,’ Harry replies carelessly and he presses back again, more certain and purposeful this time. ‘You wanna fuck first?’ he asks quietly, his head turning to the side as though to see Niall’s face.

 

Niall swallows and presses a kiss between Harry’s shoulder blades. ‘Can do,’ he says, voice still low in the sleepy heat of the room. ‘You still – you still stretched?’

 

‘Probably,’ yawns Harry and he reaches back to pull Niall’s joggers and boxers down, fingers still clumsy with residual sleep and disuse.

 

Niall grunts and switches hands on Harry’s cock, using his freed one to reach down and feel between his legs. His fingers slip inside easily, coaxing a pleased little huff from Harry, who rolls forward onto his front a bit more, inviting Niall to lie over him. Inside, he’s wet and a little sticky, but he doesn’t need much stretching from Niall’s fingers to get him ready and Niall’s glad, because he’s fully hard now, his cock feeling heavy and strained between his legs. He slicks some cursory lube over himself, finding the bottle still nestled between the sheets, and gradually slides himself inside.

 

It’s slower, this time, with Harry still half-asleep and Niall feeling sudden tiredness, with the heat of the room, roll over him. He keeps his thrusts shallow, mouth working constantly over the relaxed muscles of Harry’s back and hand moving slowly back and forth over Harry’s cock, spreading the wetness of his arousal down the shaft as it comes.

 

‘This good?’ he rasps and Harry moans quietly, hips shifting back lazily to show his appreciation. ‘Yeah? Gonna come inside you again. Get you properly full,’ mutters Niall, before he’s even really registered the words. Even he flushes at that, but he feels Harry’s dick get harder in his hand, pre-come spurting out of the tip and dampening the sheets beneath them. ‘Like that? Like the thought of being full of my come?’ asks Niall, bold. Harry moans again, his head nodding slowly and Niall can see the flush running down from his neck to his back.

 

Grunting, he puts a bit more power into his thrusts, pushing Harry down into the bed and rutting into him, hard. He’s catching Harry’s prostate, the nerves catching against his cock at every thrust inwards, and Harry chokes, fucks back against him as much as he can.

 

‘Fuck, yes, come on. Tell me why you want it,’ Niall gasps, hand jacking Harry as fast as he can now and basking in the choked little moans he gets out of him from it.

 

‘Wanna be dripping,’ Harry grits out, voice barely audible. ‘Wanna feel you all the way inside me, filling me up.’

 

Niall grunts again and snaps his hips a couple more times, coming suddenly and without warning. It feels good, slow like liquid caramel, and Harry hums, sounding pleased, at the sensation. He keeps wanking Harry’s cock, but Harry grabs other hand and presses it between his legs, the fingers slipping inside again, much easier than before.

 

He’s really wet now and his hole feels hot and open with it. ‘Shit,’ Niall hisses, thrusting three inside without preamble and Harry moans loudly, starts to fuck back on it again. ‘You’re fucking sloppy.’ Harry gasps out a yes and shudders, hot wetness spurting out to wet the sheets and Niall’s hand.

 

Niall lets Harry doze again afterwards, getting a flannel to clean himself up, but when he goes to get Harry, he’s shoved off with an embarrassed shake of the head. He swallows and nods, throwing the flannel into the laundry basket and fetching their food, sitting up cross legged on the bed and prodding at Harry’s side with his toe.

 

‘Come on, you need to eat,’ he says firmly, putting down Harry’s box to his side and waiting for the younger boy to sit up. ‘Got you some boxers here, pop ‘em on while you eat.’

 

Harry shifts and gets up onto his knees, blanket pooling about his thighs, and rubs clumsily at his eyes. He grabs the boxers and yanks them up, lips pouting at a little at being forced into clothes, but then he crawls over next to Niall and grabs his box of food, curling up into the other boys side and starting to shovel chips into his mouth.

 

‘So sexy,’ murmurs Niall, smirking, as he grabs the remote from the bedside table and turns on the telly, settling them both back into the pillows.

 

Harry snorts and frowns up at him, a chip handing out of the side of his mouth and Niall giggles, shaking his head.

 

‘’M very sexy, Niall. I eat like it’s a porno,’ Harry says, mouth full of potato, and Niall shoves at his face.

 

‘Dunno about the eating, but it’s pretty sexy that you’re full up on two of my loads,’ he says shamelessly, never one to shy away from being blunt. Harry blushes and turns his head, burying it into Niall’s side.

 

‘You like that?’ asks Harry, muffled by Niall’s jumper.

 

Smiling, Niall uses the hand not holding his burger to run soothingly up and down Harry’s back. ‘Yeah, I like that,’ he says easily and Harry smiles up at him. His eyes are more pupil than colour, black and soft. He seems more tactile than usual, throwing his legs over Niall’s and rubbing his nose into his jumper, hands grabbing at his thighs when he’s not eating.

 

‘Calm down,’ Niall murmurs eventually and to his surprise, Harry settles instantly, tucked up underneath his arm and yawning widely. ‘God, you’re such a feline,’ Niall jokes, fondly, and in response, Harry rubs up into the hand tangled into his hair, imitating a purr.

 

For his part, Harry feels good. Really good. Relaxed and dreamy in a way he doesn’t entirely recognise, a bit like that time Niall fucked him really hard after a night out in town. When Niall gets up to throw the boxes away, Harry pouts and holds his arms out from the bed, waiting for Niall to collapse back down and wrapping around him like a limpet. It should probably feel uncomfortable, the wetness at the seat of his pants and the sensitivity of all his nerves, but it’s not. It feels twitchy, until he’s back pressed against Niall, feeling the other boy’s body heat bleed into his own.

 

‘You stink,’ mutters Niall, as they switch on to _Miranda_ and Niall’s nose buries into the top of Harry’s hair.

 

‘Good, wanna smell like you,’ Harry sighs. He feels like he has no filter on what he’s saying, but he can’t feel embarrassed for himself, he feels too good.

 

Niall gives him a look, like he’s being a bit weird, which he probably is. He’s not usually quite this clingy or, well, dirty. ‘You gonna shower before we go sleep?’ he asks, but he sounds interested and curious, rather than annoyed or demanding.

 

Harry considers. He should, really. He should wash, he thinks with a blush. But a huge part of him really doesn’t want to. Wants to wake up still feeling like he’s been drenched in Niall, like he’ll never get the smell or the feel of him out of his skin. ‘Do you want me to?’ he asks quietly, looking up at Niall through his eyelashes and finding his face fond and kind.

 

‘Up to you, isn’t it? I don’t mind,’ he says easily and Harry frowns, pouts a bit, because making decisions like this for himself can sometimes feel so hard. Niall sighs and his hand drifts down Harry’s back and into his pants, fingers skimming down the crack of his arse and petting gently over his hole. It’s sensitive and almost painful and Harry makes a high, thready noise in his throat, burying his face into Niall’s neck. ‘Fuck you’re wet,’ Niall mutters. Harry nods jerkily, hips shifting as Niall’s fingers dip inside him, easy with the remnants of lube and the come still inside him.

 

He clambers up to stretch over Niall’s body, face in his neck and legs splayed wide over his hips. He’s not going to get hard again and he doesn’t think Niall will either, but he lets him finger him for a bit as he watches _Miranda_ over Harry’s shoulder.

 

‘Don’t shower. Want to fuck you like this tomorrow morning, still full of my come,’ Niall says lazily, as though it’s not a thing at all. Harry whimpers and nuzzles further into his neck, partly relieved and partly bereaved when Niall’s fingers slip back out of his body and he uses a tissue from the bedside table to wipe them off.

 

‘Okay,’ Harry says into his neck.

 

Ten minutes later, he’s fallen asleep on top of Niall, snoring gently, so Niall turns off the TV, pulls the duvet over the two of them, and drifts into his own deep sleep along with him.

 

-//-

 

Harry wakes up to Niall’s cock sliding back inside him and he moans loudly, fingers gripping tight into the sheets at either side of his head and his body jerking at the shock.

 

‘Couldn’t wait,’ Niall mumbles into his ear, hips snapping forcefully.

 

Harry still has a residue of that good feeling from last night rolling around inside him and it makes him lax, legs spread wide and hips heavy where they’re propped up by a pillow Niall must have slipped underneath him whilst he was dreaming.

 

‘Looked at your fucking arse and there was still come on it, had to be back inside you,’ Niall continues and Harry nods frantically, thinking he understands the feeling, the desperation to be this close again, so soon. He thinks this might get it out of his system, this last time, but he feels like he’s sinking deeper, wants to lay like this forever and just have Niall … use him.

 

They stay silent after that, Harry letting the force of Niall’s hips push his own into the pillow, not needing much more friction than that. He still feels oversensitive, close to snapping from the drag of Niall’s cock against his rim every time he pushes in or pulls out, and he finds himself closer than he thought he’d be so soon.

 

‘You can come,’ Niall says roughly, his breath short, and Harry feels a tension in his stomach release at the allowance. He moans a little and wriggles, feels a sweet pleasure-pain zing through his body as Niall grazes his prostate, and with a few small pushes into the pillow he comes. ‘Good, so good,’ Niall murmurs, stroking at his hair. Harry sobs a bit as Niall keeps thrusting into him, chasing his own orgasm with abandon now that Harry’s done.

 

He comes not much later, grunting through it, and Harry feels the new spill of wetness inside, whimpers at the sensation it brings.

 

Niall draws back and spreads him out, stares down at him. Harry can only imagine what he looks like; his hole already puffy and abused from yesterday, newly wet with come. He feels it trickle out of him and down his perineum, a cooling damp that stops at his balls, and he sobs into the sheet. It’s good, but it’s also embarrassing, even though it’s Niall.

 

‘If you push a bit …’ Niall trails off and Harry hiccoughs, drawing his elbows in to his sides. He does what Niall asks anyway, feels more slip out of him and trembles at it, even as Niall breathes heavily and strokes soothingly at the base of his spine. ‘Yeah, yeah, that’s good. Fuck, you’re so full of it.’

 

The next thing Harry knows, Niall’s tongue’s at his arse, licking up his crack. He keens and whines, shakes his head into the mattress, but pushes back anyway. Niall’s fingers dig into the globes of his arse cheeks, holding him apart, and his tongue feels rough and painful against the abused skin of his hole. He can’t ask him to stop, doesn’t know if he wants to, but – but it’s heading into too much territory, now. He can’t come again, not now, but it feels good all the same, if not incredibly dirty. Niall’s tongue delves inside him, licks experimentally at his walls and Harry shakes his head and starts to draw away, crying openly now. It feels like he’s burning from the inside out, hot and ashamed and turned on and unable to focus on one feeling to run with.

 

Niall draws back and clambers up the bed, pulling Harry into his chest and stroking his hair firmly, making softly comforting noises.

 

‘Okay, sorry, that was too far, wasn’t it love,’ he says gently. Harry nods into his chest and cries a bit more, before it dies down and he’s just gasping. ‘Do you want to have a shower?’ asks Niall kindly.

 

‘In a minute,’ mumbles Harry. He feels doused in hot water and still unable to focus, drifted off somewhere and good, but overwhelmed. ‘Cuddle me a bit longer. Then shower. Then breakfast. I want scrambled eggs,’ he says and he wants it to come out forcefully, but it’s a question instead and Niall answers it with an easy yes.

 

‘Anything you want. We can sleep all day if you want. Get you cleaned up and pretty and tucked up in bed,’ Niall whispers, still stroking him and Harry pushes into it, a pleased rush running through him at the thought of getting cleaned up again, back to the point where Niall can ruin him at some point in the future. Not too often, but sometimes.

 

‘Can we watch a film?’ Harry feels like a child, but it’s nice with Niall murmuring assurances to him and nodding into his curls.

 

He thinks, suddenly, that when Niall comes back home to Cheshire with him, he’ll be alright with telling everyone they’re dating. He can trust Niall with himself and he hopes Niall knows he can trust Harry with himself, too, when they go for dinner with his mam and dad.

 

‘We’ll watch the Aristocats,’ Niall’s saying eagerly and Harry purrs, just for him, rubbing his nose into Niall’s chest and licking him roughly. Niall just laughs and draws him up for a kiss, hot and sweet. Harry laments that they haven’t kissed so much, since they met up the previous morning, and it’s nice, now, to feel Niall’s lips. They’re chapped and rough, but a few licks and they slide easily enough over Harry’s, his tongue hot and heavy in his mouth. Harry sighs and smiles, lying back against the pillows and smiling up at Niall.

 

Niall’s never seen someone look so trusting.

 

‘I want a shower now,’ Harry says quietly.

 

‘Good stuff, I’ve got your favourite body wash,’ says Niall cheerfully, wrapping his arm around Harry’s back and dragging him up. ‘Get you smelling like an orange tree.’

 

Getting the faint scent of orange from Niall’s hair right now, Harry can’t think of anything he’d rather smell like.


End file.
